


Found

by Vexie



Series: Freedom [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Homecoming, Mollymauk mention, Rare Pairing, Thunderstorms, Yasha returns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 07:22:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15858936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexie/pseuds/Vexie
Summary: Caleb stands watch whenever it storms. Not in case of enemies…in case of a friend.It doesn’t matter that she has no reason to come back, or that really, she shouldn’t come back. Every rumble of thunder is the creak of her armor and her heavy boots walking toward them. Every fork of lightning is the inverse of her black skeletal wings against white snow. Even the clouds in their dark gradients remind him of her hair.Every storm feels like Yasha to Caleb now.





	Found

**Author's Note:**

> While this is technically a second part of the "Freedom" series, this is a stand-alone piece. I don't necessarily reference back to "Fallen", but if you want more Caleb/Yasha awkwardness, feel free to go check it out! The only way Fallen really comes first is just chronologically.

Storms don’t smell like they did back home. Nothing here smells like it did where Caleb’s from, or anywhere he’s ever been. Everything on the Menagerie Coast is tinged with a briny salt smell. Fjord had been right about that. You can smell the ocean no matter where you are. Idly, Caleb wonders if this is one reason why sailors are constantly called to sea when they live so close to it. You can smell it anywhere you go. It’s not _bad_ , it just reminds him of where he is.

               Caleb sits on what has come to be his favorite rock on the shore. It’s large and smoother than the others, with just enough height for him to sit comfortably and watch the waves roll in. He finds that he likes watching the sea come and go. He enjoys the white caps of the blue waves as they rise and crash down. He likes the greenish-blue curl as the waves lap the shore. The constant rhythm is eerily soothing. Before he realizes it, he’s spending more and more time here, staring out into the waves. It’s a good place to sit and think, or to work on spells, or to read a book.  

               Today, Caleb’s book sits near him, forgotten. The scenery is different. The waves are a dark iron grey, pounding anxiously against the shore. Black clouds are gathering up far out into the sea. Caleb isn’t exactly sure how far, but it’s several miles away. He can see the lightning flash every so often, but no thunder reaches his ears, no matter how hard he listens. He’s not sure if that’s more indicative of the distance of the storm or the volume of the waves. It’s beautiful, in its own way, like a storm contained in a bottle. He can see the torrents of rain and the forked lightning as clear as can be, but he’s warm and dry on his makeshift bench.

               Caleb watches the distant flashes of lightning. His thoughts turn to Yasha. They always do during storms nowadays. He can still see her walking briskly away across the frozen land, toward the storm gathering in the distance, her black wings standing out so crisp against the snow, her fists balled at her sides. Yes, he’d looked. Even after turning away under the guise of protecting Nott (She’d known, of course. He could tell by the way her thin arms had wrapped tighter around him in reassurance rather than pain), he’d looked back to watch Yasha leave them. It had felt so final, the way she’d walked away.

               _“I’ll find you when I’m ready_ ,” she had said, her voice broken.

               They made sure she’d know where to find them as they travel. But now that Mollymauk was gone, would she return to them? What reason would she have to do so? For all they knew, she was only staying with their group for him. And now…no more Mollymauk. Yasha’s grief was so raw in every angle of her body. Caleb only saw her face for a moment, but it was filled with shock, disbelief, and a hollow emptiness. _It happened again_ , she had said. Whether she meant the death of Molly specifically, or the loss of a friend, or something else entirely, nothing had ever sounded so lonely to Caleb. And he knew a thing or two about loneliness. Whatever Molly had been to her, losing him had been a hard hit.

               It doesn’t matter that she has no reason to come back, or that really, she shouldn’t come back. Every rumble of thunder is the creak of her armor and her heavy boots walking toward them. Every fork of lightning is the inverse of her black skeletal wings against white snow. Even the clouds in their dark gradients remind him of her hair. Every storm feels like Yasha to Caleb now. He’s made it a habit to stare into them, hoping maybe he’ll see a glimpse of black-to-white braids or the strong figure of his— _their_ lost friend. Maybe she’ll come walking out of the thunderheads toward them one of these days.

               “Come back soon,” Caleb murmurs now, smiling at the lightning forking over the ocean. “I’m getting pretty scruffy again, Jester says. I could really use your help.”

               He thinks he can hear the faintest roll of thunder. He pretends it’s a response—laughter, perhaps?

               “If we’re being honest here, and I have no reason not to be as a foolish man talking to a storm all alone, I miss you, friend,” he says. “We all do.”

               Caleb gives a small, guilty jump as he hears the sound of boots on the pebbly sand behind him. His fingers brush his book for a moment; he considers picking it up and pretending to read, but he knows it’s too late.

               “Caleb. There you are,” Fjord’s steady voice slices through the waves like the bow of a ship.

               “Here I am,” Caleb agrees apprehensively. Did Fjord hear him?

               “You’ve been spendin’ a lot of time here,” Fjord says. He doesn’t mention anything, perhaps he didn’t hear Caleb after all.

               “I like the sound of the ocean. I’d never been before now,” Caleb says. “It’s peaceful here.”

               “I keep forgettin’ that y’all’ve never seen the ocean. It was always just another constant for me like the sky or the wind growin’ up,” Fjord muses.  

               “I had forests and cold,” Caleb says dismissively. He does not want to start trading stories of childhood. That topic is extremely off limits. “Why were you looking for me? Is something wrong?” 

               Ford comes to stand next to Caleb’s rock. He points out over the ocean.

               “You’re lookin’ at it,” he says. “Storm’s rollin’ in.”

               “Ja, I know. I’ve been watching it gather. It’s pretty far out, though. Should be okay,” Caleb says, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. There’s an awkward pause as they both watch the rolling clouds and flashes of lightning. Things have been easier between Fjord and Caleb since…since the Sour Nest. But communication is still a little bit of a struggle. What do they have in common?

               “Storms are dangerous here,” Fjord presses on. “They can get real bad since they’ve got the sea at their mercy, too. Just wanted to make sure you get in safe.”

               Caleb shakes his head.

               “I’m not afraid of thunderstorms,” he says.

               Fjord takes a breath to protest, frowning, but Caleb continues, smiling a little.

               “They seem a little friendlier to me, these days. I like to think we have someone watching over us from these storms,” he says, turning to watch Fjord.  

               Fjord looks at Caleb for a moment, then looks out over the ocean toward the thunderheads. Several emotions flutter across his face, ranging from the guilt that’s always hiding just beneath the surface to these days, to longing, and finally to understanding. He nods slowly, keeping his eyes on the sea.  

               “I noticed you’ve been more attentive during storms lately,” he says thoughtfully. The end of his sentence doesn’t _sound_ like the end. There’s a question unspoken there.

               “Someone should keep an eye on them, I think. Just in case,” Caleb replies carefully. Neither of them mention her by name. They’ve never talked about her being gone. Jester and Nott act like she’s just out buying milk or something trivial. Beau thinks she’s not coming back—but then she often has a negative perspective. Caleb wonders if Fjord thinks she’s gone for good, too. He doesn’t know how to ask. He doesn’t _want_ to ask. Knowing might make it more true, as foolish as that sounds.

               Fjord turns back to him curiously. He starts to speak, but changes his mind. He sighs.

               “Still, you should come back to the inn. This is gonna be a big one. We don’t need you gettin’ swept off into the sea,” he says. “It’ll be here sooner than you’d think.”

               “All right,” Caleb says meekly. He picks up his unread book and walks with Fjord back to the inn they’re staying in. Their return journey is silent. Moments after they reach the door, the rain begins to fall. First it falls in large, hard splatters, then in sheets that beat against the building. Fjord smiles at Caleb and puts a hand on his shoulder, nodding at the rain with a knowing look before walking away.  

               Caleb sits at a table by the window, his book open in front of him. He gets a little bit of reading done, though not nearly as much as he should be able to in the time given. He spends far more time gazing out the window at the rain. The rest of the Nein leave him be. They sit some ways away, playing dice games at a large table. He doesn’t know if it’s Fjord’s influence that keep them from bothering him. The only person to really interact with him is Caduceus, who slips a cup of tea down in front of him with his calm smile.

               “Who is this?” Caleb asks mildly, looking at the worn teacup. Caduceus laughs. Caleb likes his laugh; it’s deep and good-natured. It’s _genuine_.  A rarity, Caleb thinks.

               “I don’t know _who_ , but I can tell you it’s passionflower, chamomile, lavender, and catnip,” Caduceus says, listing the ingredients off on his fingers. “Happy reading, friend.”

               The tea, Caleb finds, tastes wonderful (he has yet to taste a bad tea provided by the Firbolg). He savors it in sips for the rest of the evening, though he finds himself yawning sooner than he would usually. Whether it’s the tea, the sound of the now-steady rain on the window, or just the gloomy day, Caleb makes his way up to his room fairly early. He finds sleep waiting for him.

 

               _“Mama!” Caleb shouts, diving for his mother’s skirts. He’s still small enough to fit under them, and young enough that she laughs._

_“It’s all right, my son. Just thunder,” she says, moving her skirts to reveal the small boy. He’s maybe seven or eight. His hair was lighter then, more of his father’s red showing. He brushes his messy hair out of his frightened blue eyes to gaze up at his mother._

_“But it’s so big! What if it knocks down the house?” Caleb asks._

_“It won’t. Thunder is just the noise made by passing lightning. Come, let’s go look. It’s not raining,” his mother stands, setting her embroidery aside. The small boy hiding under her skirts tries to grab them and keep her there, but she easily pulls her skirts out of his grip._

_“No!” Caleb cries as she walks toward the front door of their small cottage. She smiles at him._

_“Come with me, Caleb,” she says, opening the door. “It’s all right.”_

_“I don’t want to! I’m scared,” Caleb says, standing, but keeping his distance. He winces as there’s another roll of thunder. His mother holds out her hand._

_“I’ll be right here with you,” she promises._

_Caleb takes a deep breath and slowly walks forward to take his mother’s hand. He grips it tightly, and she grips it back just as tight, confirming her promise. Together, they walk a few steps out the front door. Caleb presses himself against his mother’s skirts as the blue lightning streaks across the steel grey sky, making an involuntary sound of fear._

_“Look!” His mother says, pointing at the sky. “You can tell how far away it is by counting. Wait for another flash---aaaand, ready? Eins, zwei, drei, vier…” Thunder echoes across the valley._

_“Did you hear? That means it’s less than a mile away. Isn’t it beautiful?” his mother says. She counts the next few for him._

_As they stand and watch the storm, Caleb relaxes, little by little, even whispering the count between flash and bang. He lets go of his mother and stands on his own, staring up at the sky. Another flash of lightning begins. This one looks different…bigger somehow._

_“Eins—” he barely has time to get the word out before the bolt strikes the ground, only a matter of feet in front of him. Caleb can feel all the hair on his body stand on end. The air around him crackles. His eyes are filled with blue-white light. His mother’s shout is drowned out by the deep bass of the thunder. Caleb screams._  
  


               For once, Caleb isn’t sure what time it is when he sits upright in bed. The small room he’s sharing with Nott is drenched in bright blue-white light. The thunder is immediate. The shutters over the window rattle at the volume and depth of the sound. It sounds exactly like his dream. Caleb sits in his bed, hand over his racing heart as the thunder continues to roll, barely having time to taper off before another flash of lightning starts the process over again. Caleb looks over at Nott, curled in a ball under the sheets of her own bed. She’s still asleep, her small chest rising and falling evenly. She doesn’t even stir at the light or sound of the storm outside. He’s not sure whether he wishes he slept as soundly as she does, or that she had woken so she’d be here with him.

               There’s a very specific loneliness that comes when you’re the only one who’s woken, drenched in fear in the middle of the night while everyone around you sleeps peacefully on.

               Caleb lays back onto the mattress, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. He doesn’t close his eyes again. He watches the lightning flash through the window, making foreign shapes that writhe on the ceiling. None of the flashes are as bright as the first one, nor is any of the thunder as loud. Still, Caleb doesn’t fall back asleep. If anything, he’s more awake than he should be. More alert. He lays still, listening hard. For what? He has no idea. Something feels _different_. He can’t quite put a finger on it.  

               “It’s just a storm. You saw it coming your way earlier,” he whispers to himself. “There’s nothing mysterious about it. It’s only different because of the sea, like Fjord said.”

               Caleb closes his eyes, but opens them again almost immediately. He sighs and sits up again. The problem, he thinks, with having a mind that can move as quickly as his, is that sometimes he can’t get it to stand still. His mother’s advice from all those years ago is fresh in his mind. Perhaps going out to take a better look at the storm will convince him it’s nothing to get worked up about.

               Silently, Caleb dresses. He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. Should he wake Nott? She’ll worry if she wakes to find him gone. Caleb shakes his head and turns the knob, slipping out the door. No, there’s no need to worry anyone with his stupid whim. At most, they’ll be annoyed with him for waking them up with no real need. At best, they’ll laugh at him for being paranoid. Neither option sounds preferable to him.

              

               When Caleb steps outside, he finds that though there is still quite the light show in the sky, the rain has stopped. The air feels electric and uneasy. Or maybe it’s just Caleb’s own uneasiness.  He takes a deep breath and smells the storm mixed with the tanginess of the sea and—his heart stops. For just a moment, he smells _cold_. It’s a smell he associates with home—snow and wood and dry, crunchy leaves. He stands in the street and inhales deeply, eyes closed. It’s faint, but he can smell it. But… _how_? Is it just his imagination from his dream? Or could it be…no…

               Caleb opens his eyes and scans the sky—it’s so _big_. Where should he aim? There? He points out toward the center of the storm, using his arm as a straight-edge. It could just be that he’s half asleep still, or it could be his imagination, but he lightning all seems to be coming from one place, right there. Is that how storms work? He doesn’t know, but it’s the best lead he has. Not taking his eyes off his chosen spot, Caleb reaches into his pocket with one hand and pulls out a bit of wire.

               Feeling like an idiot already, Caleb imagines Yasha’s blue and violet eyes, her pale face, her dark hair. He focuses on that spot in the storm and casts Message.

               “Yasha – I-it’s Caleb. Are you there?” He says, then quickly adds “You can uh…reply to this message.”

               Silence. Caleb’s heart hammers against his chest as he waits for an answer that probably won’t come. Thunder rolls in the distance. Then:

“I’m here.”

It’s quiet and hoarse, almost a whisper, but it’s Yasha’s voice. Electricity that has nothing to do with the storm shoots through Caleb’s body. He shoves the wire back in his pocket. He takes off in the direction of the place he’d aimed his spell toward. He walks faster and faster until he breaks out into a run. She’s _here_.  He had expected nothing when he cast the spell. It had been a shot in the dark, quite literally. Part of him wonders if he’s been duped by his own brain, but there’s only one way to find out.

Caleb reaches the beach within a few minutes. He’s a mess of sweat and heavy breathing, his hair wild from the wind of the run and the storm, his coat slipping off his shoulders. But there she is, standing at the edge of the water, watching as the storm begins to recede back out across the ocean, giving further credence to Caleb’s suspicion that this is not exactly a natural storm. She stands tall and strong as she always has, but she looks so tired somehow. He takes a moment to compose himself, then walks toward her.

“Yasha,” he says before he reaches her, trying to make his voice gentle. She doesn’t like being startled, he recalls, and he doesn’t care to take one of her punches to the face. She turns.

“Hello, Caleb,” she says, lifting a hand in greeting before quickly dropping it, looking down at the ground. Even in the darkness, her face looks more worn than usual.

“Hello,” Caleb replies, then stops, unsure of what to say next. He realizes he hasn’t thought of what he would do once he got here.

“I can’t believe—how did you know to call for me? How did you know I’d be here?” Yasha asks, shaking her head in disbelief.

Caleb shrugs, looking up at the clouds again.

“When you left us, you disappeared into a storm. I thought that perhaps a storm would bring you back somehow,” he admits. “This one felt different than other storms, so I thought…why not try?”

He’s careful not to look at her, but if he had, he’d have seen the startled look on her face.

“How did you even know I’d ever come back?” She asks.

“You promised you’d find your way,” Caleb says. Now he does look at her with smile on his face. “Twice, actually.”

“I wasn’t sure, for a while,” Yasha admits.

“I had faith,” Caleb offers. “For whatever that’s worth. So did Nott, and so did Jester. And Fjord and Beau, too.” He may be fudging the truth a little, but he thinks she might need to hear it. Regardless of whether they believed she’d come back, he did know they _wanted_ her to come back, and that’s the important thing.  

Yasha laughs a little, but there isn’t much humor there.

“Yeah…I got Jester’s messages. I was surprised you would want me to know where you were going. I didn’t think you would want me back at all,” she says. There is a pause after she says this, then she looks up at Caleb questioningly, hopefully.

Caleb takes a few steps backward. Yasha’s face drops, but Caleb turns and touches his hand to the top of the rock that has been serving as his bench for the past few days. It’s a bit damp at best. He pulls his coat off and spreads it across the rock, then sits down on it. A little rain isn’t going to do anything more to it than has already been done. He pats a spot on the coat next to him, looking at Yasha imploringly. Hesitantly, she walks to the rock and sits down next to Caleb. She takes a nervous breath.  

“Now,” Caleb says gently, leaning forward. “Tell me why you would think that. Why would you think we wouldn’t be overjoyed to have one of our strongest party members back on board?”

Yasha hangs her head, braids falling to swing in front of her face.

“That’s just it. I wasn’t…I wasn’t strong enough. I failed,” she says.

Caleb shakes his head.

“You fought as hard as you could—” he starts.

“I did! They surrounded us and I tried to fight back. I managed to draw blood on at least one of them. I thought I was gaining some ground but they still beat me. In the end, I couldn’t stop them. I failed Fjord and Jester and let them get captured,” Yasha says, the words spilling out. “I couldn’t protect them. I wasn’t strong enough.”

Caleb is quiet for a few moments, collecting words.

“Do you know that Fjord said a very similar thing? He feels as though _he_ failed _you_. Not the other way around,” he says. “And Jester has told us how you would not let them break you—how you withstood everything they did without giving in and making sound. She admires you for that. They do not think you’re weak. Not once have they said you failed them.”

A shadow passes over Yasha’s face at the reminder of her torture. She shakes the memory away, grimacing.

“The whole time, I just thought of what I could have done better. I should have kept them close to the camp. I should have fought harder or done something different. I should have paid more attention so we would have heard them coming. I should have found a way out of that cell,” Yasha says. As she talks, she picks up small rocks and throws them at the ocean, her whole body twisting with the force, throwing them harder and harder as she grows angry.

Hesitantly, Caleb puts a hand on her knee.

“Yasha, listen to me,” he says, voice low. “What happened is not your fault, okay?”

“But I should have—” Yasha starts.

“But it’s done,” Caleb interrupts her. “What Lorenzo and the Iron Shepherds did to you and Fjord and Jester and all those other people was not your fault. They weren’t some highway thugs. They knew their business very well. They were evil, and they were strong. The four of us left weren’t able to take Lorenzo down at first, not even with Keg’s help. We were overpowered…almost too easily, it seemed.”

“Is…is that what happened to Molly?” Yasha asks.

Caleb looks down. She hadn’t ever heard the whole story, he realized. She had been unconscious when they told Fjord and Jester. And no one had been able to fully explain it to her. What was it Beau had said on their way here? When you’re with someone when they die, it’s forever your responsibility to tell that story. He’s not the right person to do it, but he’s the one who’s here now. It’s his responsibility.

“Ja,” Caleb says quietly. “We ambushed Lorenzo on the road. We tried to take him down. We were overpowered and outwitted.”

“And Molly…” Yasha’s exhausted face begs for the truth. Caleb inhales and counts to five, then exhales slowly.

“Mollymauk saved Beauregard’s life. Lorenzo had been about to strike her down. Molly leapt forward to attack Lorenzo directly using his blood magic. He was so intent, he did not realize he was already weakened from everything we’d been through. He couldn’t withstand the price,” Caleb says. “Lorenzo took his opportunity and murdered him while he was down.”

Yasha bows her head. The sky above rumbles uneasily.

“He cared about you, you know. He was coming for you,” Caleb says again. “He was determined to rescue you.”

“He shouldn’t have had to,” Yasha says in a strained whisper. She raises her head and speaks more clearly. “He _shouldn’t_ have _had_ to. I should have been there with you. Molly is gone because of me. Because I failed.”

“You didn’t—” Caleb starts.

“I failed!” Yasha leaps to her feet, throwing her head back to shout the words at the sky. The thunder claps out over the ocean, loud enough to make Caleb flinch. Was it coincidence? Caleb waits, unsure of what to do.

“I made a promise to him, when we first found him,” Yasha says in a hoarse voice, sitting back down. “We found him in the woods—the circus did. I was pretty new then, too. He wasn’t…he wasn’t all right, then. He could barely function. He kept finding his way back to me. Later he said it was because I was quiet and didn’t try to ask him questions or make him talk. He was very skittish—afraid of something—everything, really. He never did say what made him so afraid. I never asked. I just…I promised him, that first night, that if he stayed close by, I would make sure nothing happened to him. I promised I’d look out for him. Later, when found his words again, he told me his story, about waking up under the ground without knowing why he got there and clawing his way out. He had nightmares about it. I told him I’d never let that happen again. I think he trusted me…he had less nightmares after that.”

Yasha drops her head into her hands.

“But I failed. I couldn’t protect him. I wasn’t…I wasn’t even there for him,” she says, her voice breaking. “He was buried under the ground again and I wasn’t there with him.”

Almost holding his breath, Caleb inches his hand out and carefully places it on Yasha’s back. Her shoulders shake with emotion. _What do I do_ , Caleb thinks desperately. He moves his hand in what he hopes is a comforting circular pattern on her back. Without warning, Yasha leans into him, her head falling onto his shoulder. He feels hot tears seep through his shirt.

“It’s all right,” Caleb whispers, hesitantly at first, but then he repeats it with conviction, moving his arm to put it around Yasha. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he realizes what a ridiculous image this must be—this small, ragged, skin and bones man holding and comforting this strong, powerful Aasmir woman with her wild braids and barbarian paint. But he pushes the thought from his head, trying to remember what it was like to be comforted once, long ago. In the end, he just holds her and lets the storm rage through her.

Finally, she sits back, wiping her face and looking embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“It’s all right,” Caleb says again. He leans back, locking his arms to brace himself.

“You loved Mollymauk?” He says, looking up at the sky. The clouds are starting to break up at last, a few stars peeking out here and there.

“Not…as such? Not romantically, anyway,” Yasha says. “We…had an understanding. He’s the first person to have seen my…my other form and not be afraid of me. And I wasn’t afraid of his first life. We both saw each others’ demons and we both stuck around. I guess he was more like a brother than anything else.”

“I see,” Caleb says, mostly to himself. Unsure of what to say next, he changes the subject.

“We visited Trostenwald on our way here, by the way,” he says. “We paid Gustav’s debt and freed him from prison.”

“That was…generous of you,” Yasha says, surprised. She smiles. “I’m glad to hear he’s free, though. He was good to me and Molly.”

“We recalled the both of you being fond of him,” Caleb says.

“Yes,” Yasha agrees.

“He mentioned that perhaps you would want to be his right-hand man,” Caleb says, glancing at her. “If you turned up again.”

“Me?” Yasha laughs. “I don’t know about that. Besides, I don’t know that I could go back to the circus. It wouldn’t be the same. For a lot of reasons.”

“Good,” Caleb says, smiling. “I would have been disappointed if you had turned down the Mighty Nein for the circus.”

Yasha’s smile fades, she looks away.

“ _Are_ you coming back to us?” Caleb asks gently. “I won’t force you to, you know. I don’t think I could. After all, you can break me in half very easily.” The last is said with a bit of humor, but she doesn’t seem to notice.  

“I’m…not sure if I’m ready yet,” Yasha says.

“Why did you come here tonight?” Caleb asks.

Yasha reaches down and starts sifting through the pebbles again, gathering a handful of small stones. She feels over each one with her thumb, checking its texture.

“I wanted to check in, at least,” she says, carefully piling her stones on Caleb’s coat. “I do miss everyone. I’ve thought about you all often. And I’d never…I didn’t check in with Fjord and Jester to make sure they were really okay. I just…it’s hard.”

Caleb nods.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready yet,” he says. “Would you like to consider it for a little longer?”

“I think so, yes,” Yasha says, sighing.

Caleb stands. He moves to take his coat, but changes his mind. Yasha looks up at him.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to your thoughts,” he says. “Don’t worry about the coat. You can hold on to it for the moment. We’re staying at the Blue Pearl Inn. It’s up toward the west and a little north.” Caleb points behind Yasha.

“Just bring it with you if you come back. Leave it if you don’t. I come down here fairly often; I can retrieve it myself. I’m pretty sure no one will take it, with the condition it’s in,” Caleb says with a small smile.

“Caleb, wait,” Yasha says, reaching out toward him, but stopping.

“Oh, right. Don’t worry. I won’t tell the others that I saw you here,” Caleb promises. “I can keep a secret.”

“No, I mean, thank you, but…you can stay if you want to,” Yasha says, the words tumbling out in a flustered bunch.

Caleb looks at her in surprise. He tilts his head curiously.

“Would you like me to stay?” he asks after a moment.

“Sure…if you—I mean yes. Please,” Yasha says. She pats Caleb’s coat.

There’s a warm feeling in Caleb’s chest he hasn’t felt in a long time. He sits down next to Yasha. For a while, they sit in a comfortable silence. Yasha finishes collecting stones, then begins tossing them out toward the sea. After a few stones, she moves the pile between them, inviting Caleb to join in her game. Neither of them talk much, except to compliment each others’ throws or to comment on the shape of the splash the stones make as they hit the water. The storms roll far out over the ocean, all but forgotten.

 

The sunrise over the ocean is beautiful. The pinks and oranges of the sky contrast with the deep jewel blues and greens and even violets of the water. A few silver clouds remain, but the storm of the previous night is gone without a trace. They watch the colors change until the sky begins to turn into the blue of a promisingly pleasant day.

“Well?” Caleb says gently. “What will it be?”

Yasha nods and stands up.

“Let’s go back,” she says.

Caleb stands and shakes the sand out of his coat. He puts it back on as Yasha tries to get control of her braids and straightens her armor.

“Let’s go,” Caleb agrees.

Together, Caleb and Yasha walk up the beach and into town. A few shop owners are sleepily starting to move about, preparing for the day. No one seems to notice the wizard and the Aasmir walking in companionable silence.

As the inn comes into view, Yasha slows. Caleb doesn’t notice for a few steps until he realizes she’s no longer beside him. He stops and turns. She’s standing a ways back, staring at the inn with apprehension across her features. Caleb walks back to her.

“They will welcome you,” he says. “You’ll see.”

Yasha hesitates. Caleb sees the fears she voiced in the night start rising again. For just a moment, he sees a flash of Nott in her. He’s seen this anxiety so many times before, every time they enter a new town or a new tavern. So, just as he’s done for his small goblin friend, he reaches out a hand to his large Aasmir friend.

“Come on, it’ll be all right,” he says with a smile. “We’ll go in together.”

Yasha puts her hand in his and clasps it tightly. Caleb nods and squeezes her hand reassuringly like he’s done to Nott, like his mother did for him all those years ago.

Hand in hand, they walk up to the inn and through the front door. Caleb leads Yasha to the common room. The Nein are sitting down to breakfast. They seem to be discussing something important, voices hushed, faces serious. Caleb feels Yasha pull back. He gives her hand one more squeeze and clears his throat. The Nein look up.

“ _Caleb_! Where have you b—” Nott starts but trails off with a gasp, spotting Yasha.

“Guten morgen everyone. Look who I found down at the shore,” Caleb says as cheerfully as he can, giving Yasha a smile.

For a moment, there’s nothing but stunned silence. It’s broken when Jester bursts into tears, jumping up and running over to throw her arms around a very shocked Yasha. Nott is not far behind. Caleb and Yasha’s grip is broken by the impact of the tiefling and goblin embracing their lost friend. Yasha meets his eyes over Jester’s head, her face full of surprise and wonder. Caleb can’t stop smiling—a rarity for him.

Beau grabs Caleb’s arm. He turns to her. She raises an eyebrow, questions unspoken but written all over her face. Questions that Caleb doesn’t know how to answer. He gives her a shrug. Beau frowns, as if to tell him that this conversation they aren’t technically having isn’t over, then goes to join the growing pile of people hugging Yasha.

The space around Yasha is filled with tears and laughter. Squeals of “How are you?” and “I missed you” are repeated between the girls. Caleb takes a few steps back, giving them more room as Fjord joins the group of women. He’s still smiling. He even laughs as Jester drags Caduceus over to introduce him to their missing member. He watches the relief and joy start to work away at some of the shadows in Yasha’s face, and feels some relief himself.

After a few minutes, Fjord disengages from the group and sidles over to Caleb. He studies Caleb’s face silently for a moment, frowning.

“What?” Caleb asks, looking at him.

“How could you have possibly just _found her_ on the beach?” Fjord asks in return.

“You know how I’ve been watching thunderstorms?” Caleb says.

“Yeah?” Fjord replies.

Caleb looks at Yasha. She’s looking back at him. She smiles when his eyes meet hers, and mouths a silent _thank you_. He gives her a nod, the warm feeling stirring in his chest again. He looks at Fjord, who’s still staring at him with a bewildered expression.

“I finally found the right thunderstorm.”

 

              

 

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thank you for making it through my rare pair!
> 
> It's so interesting to write Caleb and Yasha because I'm definitely on board with Ace Caleb and I get a real Gray/Demi feel from Yasha so it's kind of a slow burn but in a really sweet way, in which small things really matter. I'm enjoying these two in a really nice, quiet way. 
> 
> I may have at least one more of these slated; I really want to do a third to round out this triptych I'm painting, but it may be a bit further out in the future. 
> 
> If you haven't already, go check out "Fallen" for more of this, and please feel free to drop me a comment and let me know what you thought! 
> 
> As always, thank you again for reading! I really do appreciate every number on that hit counter.


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